


How to Bury A Billionaire

by fem_castielnovak



Series: WORST HUNTING TEAM EVER [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, Humor, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/fem_castielnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on blowjobcas’s prompt: supernatural au where everything’s the same except it’s presented as a dark comedy with team free will being composed of soulless sam, dean smith, and endverse cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Bury A Billionaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Powerfulweak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak/gifts).



> prompt can be found at http://powerfulweak.tumblr.com/post/123070505675/blowjobcas-supernatural-au-where-everythings

 

 

“Sam, I just don’t see why we have to use this particular car.  This beautiful machine is supposed to be a collector’s item. It doesn’t deserve to be used like this. It should be polished and kept in a well lit garage for viewing, and never see a mile over 20,000.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“And aren’t we supposed to be saving the planet? It uses so much gas. And have I mentioned that there are only so many ways to earn money in this life.”

“Dean, your Prius couldn’t fit me in it much less all the hunting tools we have to lug around.”

“Besides, it was too hard to try and have sex in that tiny tin can.”

Dean looks appalled and swivels towards him, “Did you _try to?”_ Cas only grins in response.

Sam, unaffected, nods as if the once-angel has a point, “And it wouldn’t work for storing a dead body.”

“Which we wouldn’t have to be hauling, _by the way_ , if you hadn’t killed my boss. Another reason we’re currently having money problems.”

“Dean, he found out about us. I couldn’t risk him telling the authorities and something had to be done.”

“We could’ve bribed him!”

“With what? You just claimed to be having money problems.”

“Well, yeah, now that I’ve lost access to my bank accounts.”

 “No. This was the simplest plan.”

“Oh, simple? This is simple?”

“Yes. But back to your earlier point, we would have to cart a body eventually. Not all crime scenes are convenient for salt-and-burns.”

When Dean doesn’t respond, Sam grumbles accusingly, “Maybe if you’d quit your job like I suggested instead of stretching to be Bruce Wayne by day and pretending to be Batman with us at night your boss wouldn’t be dead by now.”

Dean, affronted, lets his jaw fall slack but Sam isn’t finished.

“Don’t even pretend that wasn’t what you were thinking. And if you’re so worried about the money just agree to do credit card scams already.”

Before Dean can object Sam startles him by barking, “We’re here!”

Dean only just refrains from slamming the breaks before parking. Sam’s thrown the door open and stepped out before the engine is turned off. As Sam stretches, Dean pulls a bag from the back seat and begins rifling through it.

“Where’s the salt?” Dean turns to Sam, but he only shrugs and walks away. Dean turns with a glare, “ _Caaaaas?”_

“Mmmmm?” He doesn’t even open his eyes or lift his head from where it’s resting back on the seat.

“Why are we out of salt?”

A little smirk worms its way onto his face, “I sold it.”

“Wh- to _who?”_

“Some man at the last gas stop. I told him they were bath salts and he gave me weed.”

“Are you high right now?”

“When am I not?”

“Well hopefully not in the middle of the hunt.”

“…”

“You _get high_ , during hunts?! Jesus, Cas!”

“You’re very expressive today. I’d bet that if I could see the words you’re saying typed out there would be a lot of italics and exclamation marks.”

“Not helping, Castiel.”

“Full name? You know how much I like your **boardroom** voice.”

“Work on your puns, Cas,” Sam’s returned and popped his head in the window. “C’mon, Dean. The pyre’s ready.”

“I have to make a run to the store. _Reefer Madness_ , here, used all the salt.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam pulls a vial out of his coat pocket, “Emergency stash in the med-kit.”

Dean swivels in his seat to get out and once he’s out he bends over to point his finger at the druggie in his front seat, “Stay in the car.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Cas purrs. Dean blushes, but is able to make a hasty retreat to the pile of wood which Sam is currently dousing in gasoline.

 

***********

 

Dean wipes the sweat from his forehead and climbs into the driver’s seat. Sam is packing the trunk with the tools they used.

When Cas tosses him his phone from the back seat, Dean checks the time, “Ah, crap! I was supposed to call Jo a half hour ago.”

“Don’t worry about it. She called and I talked to her for you.”

“Uh… th-“

“She’s rather adequate at phone sex.”

“Goddamnit, Cas! Why do you do these things?”

“I wasn’t the one who started it.”

“She _asked you_ for phone sex?”

“Well what else could I do when she commented on the depth of my voice?”

“I’m hungry,” Sam says demandingly before Dean can rebuttal.

Dean leans his head forward and counts to ten then goes over all the key points of Sandover’s mandatory anger management seminar. He takes a breath and sits back upright, then pulls onto the dirt road they drove down to get here.

“Who else is up for Panera?”

“Dean, you picked last night. It’s my turn.”

“When did we make up that rule?! I’m the one who’s paying so I want to pick.”

“You’re the one who insists on paying. I’m fine just holding up the next Wendy’s we come to and taking all of their Summer Salads.”

“Sam!”

“I’m not waiting to eat just so you can drive for two hours until we get to the next Panera.”

“I know you’re struggling with being human, here, but –“

“No, that’s me. He’s coping quite well for not having a soul.”

“Can it, Cas!”

Dean thinks he hears Cas mumble something about ‘only trying to help,’ but he doesn’t try to listen.

“Look – just … Fine. Fine! Where do **_you_** want to go?”

“The next place we come to that serves something I deem edible.”

Dean winces at the low threshold that establishes but his stomach gurgles in hearty support. He just knows he’s going to have to do extra sit-ups tonight and double his running mileage tomorrow. And it’ll likely mean cutting back at breakfast in case they have to do the same tomorrow night.

“I ran out of organic power bars yesterday so we’ll have to make a detour before going to the next case.”

“Again?”

“Look, I can’t eat your diner crap for breakfast.”

Sam smirks, “Still trying to get rid of that extra pudge, are we?”

Dean blushes, because maybe that’s exactly it but he’d thought there’d been some improvement lately. Cas notices when Dean grits his teeth and clenches the steering wheel tighter at the cutting remark. He leans forward to rest his head on the middle of the bench seat and gazes at Dean’s profile.

“I think it’s cute  … Almost as adorable as that shade of red your neck is right now.”

Dean clears his throat and further reddens. He then proceeds to ignore Cas’s remark.

“If we go five miles over the speed limit we can make it back to the motel in time to catch the Project Runway marathon.”

 

***********

 

“You two should just have sex.”

“ _Excuse me?”_

It’s been silent since they entered the motel room. Dean had run for the bathroom to get the ‘dead guy goo’ off of him – despite the lack of strange stains on any of his person – because Sam had made him carry the body from trunk to pyre. Sam’s been on his computer and Cas has been lying with his eyes closed on one of the beds. Dean has just exited the shower (dressed in normal attire because it’s still before 3pm) and he’s not yet noticed the lack of a cot or third bed, when Sam says this.

“I second that motion. Dean what does the company’s charter say that the next order of business is once we’ve reached a consensus? Because I have several more _motions_ I’d like to make.”

“Might want to cut back on the business kink, Cas. He’s probably sick of it after so many years at Sandover.”

“Sam! Stop giving him sex advice! You’re talking about him having sex with me!”

“So we _are_ having sex? I’ll grab the condoms!” Cas gets up and moves over to his bag then bends obscenely – wiggling his ass in the air.

“I’ll just be over here researching on the next case. Obviously I don’t need to warn you about protection, so have fun.” Sam’s eyes stay trained on the screen as they have been for the duration of the conversation.

“What? Why are you staying?!”

“You were the one who was complaining about expenses earlier,” he keeps typing, “It’ll cost more if we get separate rooms. Besides it’s not like I wouldn’t hear whatever you all did – the walls in this place are really thin. And I honestly have zero interest in whatever you all are doing. I’ll just sit quietly in the corner like I have been since we got here.”

“I don’t mind. And Dean, don’t even try to deny your voyeur kink.” Cas walks back over to the bed Dean’s sitting on.

“I am not having sex with anyone while Sam is in the room.”

“You know, I almost wish you wore a belt instead of suspenders,” Cas snaps the elastic over Dean’s shoulder and the ex-businessman jumps back with a yelp.

“Wait! No! We aren’t having sex!”

“That’s not what your dilated pupils and semi are saying…” Cas says giving him a once-over.

“Cas! Stop it!” Dean bats his hands away from where they’re fiddling with the condoms at Dean’s eye level. “I’m taking the couch.” Dean stands which only puts him closer to Cas.

“There isn’t one,” Sam says clicking away on the laptop.

“Someone’s going to have to share,” Cas says, nudging Dean so that he flails for a moment before falling back to sit on the bed once more.

 

Cas straddles Dean’s legs and makes as if to sit on his lap but before he gets any further, Dean scrambles across the bed, nearly falling to the floor when he reaches the edge on the other side. He jumps up and grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and heads for the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’m sleeping in the car!”

The door slams shut behind him and Cas drops heavily onto the bed, staring partly in longing, partly in consternation at the door.

“He’ll be back. He isn’t going to exercise where people he doesn’t know can see him. It’s why he had a personal trainer.” Cas nods at Sam’s logic.

“And when he does come back, then I’ll get him drunk for you so at least you two can cuddle.”

Cas smiles at the prospect and leans back on what will be his and Dean’s bed. He puts on the Project Runway marathon until a few hours later when Dean sheepishly pokes his head in to perform his nightly ritual …

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you don’t like it or you want a second chapter or an actual case I can try my hand at it because I know this was short  
> here’s a link to part 2 of your present: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4336376
> 
>  
> 
> Exits are to your left, your right, and your rear, restrooms are to the front, Kudos and comments are found below, and as always very appreciated. Thank you for flying Air fem-castielnovak.


End file.
